Finally
by Fatespeaker
Summary: While locked up in the RainWings' prison, Fierceteeth contemplates Darkstalker's offer. Is this her chance to finally be happy? Or is it all just another trap to keep Strongwings and Fierceteeth in chains? She never meant to become the bad guy, you know. She only wanted to be free... (Follow-up to "Clutter".)


**Finally**

Strongwings looked at her. "Fierceteeth, are you sure about that?"

Fierceteeth silently thanked the moons for the fact that they could both see in the dark. She regarded Strongwings's face, finding some comfort in the familiarity, then coldly focused on his eyes. They were glittering with fear.

He was scared. So was she, but she knew how to hide it. She knew how to mask it all with the pretense of bitterness and blame. That _was_ what she'd been doing all her life.

The new RainWing prison was lightless and damp. Who knew the lazy RainWings, of all tribes, would get a legitimate prison? Had Darkstalker created it for them? Darkstalker...the ancient name sent shivers up and down Fierceteeth's spine.

It was fortunate for the SandWing almost-assassins that they were housed in a different part of the prison. Fierceteeth would have shredded them.

She dragged her claws across the hard floor, back and forth until one of her talons wrenched and she felt a twist of pain.

"Yes, I am. I am, you stupid worry-worm." Her growl was low and long. Her thoughts swam, constantly alternating between wanting to hug him and punch him.

Strongwings seemed to shut down, curling up his fat tail and wrapping his wings around himself. Fierceteeth decided that she would not do that. She would not act like a child, a dumb, lost child, at a time like this. She was the smart one. She would _keep it together_.

She slapped him hard with her wing. Strongwings grunted and did nothing.

This was her fault. It was she who had formulated the assassination plan. It was she who had bargained their way out of the SandWing prison. It was she, Fierceteeth, who had done all the work, and snarkily complained to Strongwings the whole time.

So this was her fate? This was where she would always end up: trapped and helpless. With Strongwings beside her, loyal but useless.

First it had been the NightWing fortress. While not a typical prison, it was just as dark and horrible as this place. They had choked on toxic smoke, poisoned themselves with that ashy, contaminated water. Forced to live in the worst dump in all of Pyrrhia.

Then, after fleeing the fortress, they had been forced into prison of a different sort. To be _ruled_ by _RainWings_! Fierceteeth had struck back. She'd fought with all her might to be free, to have some scrap of control over her life.

Of course, she had failed, and, of course, they were thrown into yet another trap. A sandy, unbearably hot one. Fierceteeth's time in the SandWing prison still gave her nightmares. She knew that the moment she closed her eyes, they would return.

The assassination plan had been her last hope. It would have worked. It would have _worked_ , she told herself. She could feel it in her claws. Her aching claws. She could have raked them across Queen Glory's throat. And Strongwings would have held the RainWing down. Saguaro would have raised her tail and -

Did it matter? It was over now. The hope was gone.

Strongwings and Fierceteeth. The two unluckiest NightWings in all of Pyrrhia. Trapped, yet again. Chained down. Surrounded by the walls of the latest gloomy prison. At least this time it wasn't in a desert.

She would never win. She would never be free. Something whispered quietly in her, whispered of hatred and destruction. She felt rotten and broken and sour inside. Everything was lost. Everything was wrong. So, so wrong.

Fierceteeth folded her wings over her face and groaned.

Several scenes flashed through her head, and a terrible pain came with them.

Her mother, Farsight, scratching numbers onto candlelit scrolls in the darkness of the NightWing fortress, trapped forever in Fierceteeth's memory. Farsight - so fragile and kind. Fierceteeth would _not_ be like her. She would not shatter herself for anyone else's sake.

Morrowseer's proud, sneering face. Why didn't he write a prophecy for Fierceteeth? She imagined breathing a puff of fire and burning his smirk to a crisp. She would prove him wrong. She would get happiness and power and control. Just to rub it all in that arrogant face.

Preyhunter screaming. Preyhunter, the one who didn't make it. Preyhunter, the failure. Fierceteeth no longer felt any grief for him. She had no love left in her for the dead. She had to worry about herself...and Strongwings, of course. Strongwings was all she had left. She told herself that a hundred times, but still she recalled that dying scream every night.

And then _him_.

Her brother, Starflight. Awful, sniveling, stumbling Starflight. Starflight, who hatched free and powerful. Starflight, with his stupid prophecy and his stupid friends and his stupid father. What she had said to Glory was true, she realized with a start. She wouldn't have killed him. She couldn't. His face looked to much like Farsight's. But that didn't stop her from hating his guts.

All her life she had dreamed of being free. Of controlling her own destiny. Apparently, that was too much to ask of this world.

Queen Fierceteeth of the NightWings, slayer of the loathed Queen Glory. Fierceteeth chuckled bitterly. Now that would never be.

Fierceteeth opened her eyes and looked at Strongwings. He was snoring. Sleeping, at a time like this? Only Strongwings, bumbling, handsome Strongwings, could do that.

Trapped with her. He would follow her to his own death. She knew that. And she very well could have led him there yesterday. She wanted to yell at him. She wanted blame him for all of this. But that want made her feel guilty. The truth was that it was all her fault.

No, she told herself. No, none of this was her fault.

If Darkstalker hadn't swooped in with his stupid, overpowered animus magic, Fierceteeth's team could have been successful assassins. She could be sitting on the NightWing throne _right now_ , being hailed as a hero.

She thought about his offer. She thought about how he'd stared right through her as he made it. Fierceteeth didn't like it when dragons looked at her like that, and she _really_ didn't like knowing that someone was reading her mind.

Still, she swallowed her pride and thought about his words. She had to be smart about this. No more stupid, brash decisions. No more desperate attempts at escape.

What would happen if she agreed to go with Darkstalker? If she took Strongwings's talons in hers and brought him to a new home that was far, far away from worthless Starflight and wicked Glory and all the hateful ghosts.

They could finally live like real NightWings: healthy and happy and in control.

 _All you want is a little power and a lot of respect._

Darkstalker's calm words echoed in her head. She would not let him twist up her brain and manipulate her. Too many other dragons had done that already.

She did not fear Darkstalker. Perhaps it was because of her mother. Farsight hadn't threatened her with stories of "the EVIIIIIIIL DARKSTALKER". Not like those other NightWing parents, the ones who told scary lies.

Darkstalker was better than all those other adults. He put his offers on the table instead of lying and scheming and controlling others.

And some odd new part of her was telling her to trust him.

 _Power. Respect._

She reached out and touched Strongwings on the side. He twitched in his sleep.

They could fly to the NightWing city together. They could flee this land of prisons and chains.

Fierceteeth made up her mind. She made it up for both Strongwings and herself. She would accept Darkstalker's offer. She would make him promise her some important rank like…lieutenant! That sounded cool.

Then she would follow Darkstalker to the lost City of Night, where she would finally be free.


End file.
